Cowboys in the Badlands
Out West, across the great divide
great open spaces oceans wide
Beauty in these badlands does hide
everything fights us as we ride
Last stop, was exciting wild Abilene
shot an hombre that was very mean
Watched him bleed as he slowly died
his gal held him and loudly she cried
Before, she had sworn love to me
next his dying love she swore to be
Riding away fast, ahead of the Law
looking back, cloud of dust we saw
My partner lit out on me last night
cried this was surely not his fight
He turned back east galloping so fast
we had our time, had a damn blast
Ahead the badlands beckon me on
this cowboy life sets me all alone
Hot as hell the water miles ahead
A night's rest to clear my head
Morning sun woke me to its heat
no bread, bacon and eggs to eat
My water is in very short supply
always fleeing, I ponder just why
No time to enjoy such pretty views
my path ahead my life must choose
Avoiding Indians and the chasing men
forever alone with never a friend
This beauty now I can slow to see
posse has surely given up on me
Coyotes call , rattlesnakes do hiss
comfort of town I do sorely miss
Found now, a trail to old Mexico
across the Rio Grande I now go
Far behind, hot hell races after me
dancing with pretty senoritas I'll soon be!
10/11/2014

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail

Rise at first light.
This cowgirl enters up to ride this day.
She dawns her hat, for this is not any day.
Ready to pay her dues.
The sun will beat down,
hot and hard is how she'll ride.
Cowgirl up!
Into the shoot we go.
The blood pumping, muscles quivering.
Ready to go!
The gate slams open.
Off we go!
My mustang and me,
to round that first barrel.
Away we go!
Rounding our second barrel.
Sweat trickling.
Thundering down to that third barrel.
We round that barrel,
the dust will follow.
With a war cry,
We head down the long path home.
Followed by cheers and jeers,
she crosses the line!
Cowgirl is up and paid her dues.

Freedom Loving Cowboy
At the bar, by the docks, I spoke to a man who wore a cowboy
hat and had a pearl handle revolver in his holster. A thud and
the pretend cowboy hit the floor and the barman ducked behind
his counter. It was an exploding tire; relieved laughter which
the same when we sat in the bomb shelter and a plane overhead
dropped its load in parts of town where local Nazis´ lived.
Terror begets terror and becomes a psychosis, what we don´t
understand becomes terror and we have to arm ourselves and not
ask tedious questions. I was offered a job at this vibrant place, but
declined feared the undelaying panic, that often explodes into
violence, would get me, I would buy a gun hide it at the top of
the wardrobe and when bad people broke in, rush upstairs, find it,
nervously load it spill bullets on the floor – reload- shoot myself in
the foot. The man, in the cowboy hat, had just told me he lived in
the freest county in the world.

Unlike the newspeak of today the media rodeo plays the bull clowns chasing a scripted delay boxed up and ready to go fast food for the loll the upper end following the lower end Yet political satire's even keel will transcend while the real bull gores the clowns He can be ornery when being contained coming like a federal expess roaring down newsmail bringing the letter restrained the same package to every town the same package of the willing consripts freight in the End a older railing bull holds his own wieght

I was locked for 120 days that’s four months living off top ramen, chips and fruit punch. That’s the choices on my commissary, but on the contrary four month was lucky given I had Mary. Plus I got hit probation too, that’s three years of being told how to live and what to do. But blind I still didn’t give a Fuck, I was in jail turned up screaming screw these Deps, lock down for what? And although I had a lot flaws I saw no cause to be trapped behind those evil bars. Where was the love of my friends when I truly needed them? Guess that’s just what comes with the territory of losing your freedom.

Last Freedom Fighters
They fought battles to conquer and spread the good news, it became a mighty
state, ports open to all refugees, hard men building a new world for the next
generation to travel, trading their souls for possessions to conquer these foreign
lands.
Hidden agenda was not known yet, our red brothers gave us warnings of
many coming, our spirits calling to form a tribal union, speaking of the old days. A
white calf will be born, our corn will burn from the sun rays, smoke rising to the
stars, echo’s from the great chief, a war painted warrior speaking truth to the last
tribe, our homes were yesterday paths, our children do not speak our language,
the old sit on broken stumps not on our women woven rugs.
Sorrow comes rushing in as the pendulum swings, dividing lands between
the waters. Broken arrows burns their hearts, the teeth of the great wolf licks its
prey, waiting in the dark den, an image of timeless tales. Unknown visitors came
upon our lands and brought with them this great destruction to our pastures,
many warriors now lay in scared burial grounds, they took our women and laid
besides them making them slaves.
Our smoke clouds bringing visions, the red fox forewarns about a massacre,
ones that carry the pocked marked faces, yellow hairs that rode broken mares.
It’s now there fate to give back these grounds that belonged to us, we stand tall
knowing the fate of the last freedom fighter, they will go down to the valleys and
lay besides our own. Our eagle soars and the black bears speaks, its upon our
lands that we stood by the waters which turned into red rivers, the mountains
shake bringing down the snow, the animals hide, the dark cloud is coming by the
hands of great men, they too shall melt with the rising sun.